


Expensive Coffee

by Hinotori



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-02-25 07:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2613023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinotori/pseuds/Hinotori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living in modern-day Tokyo is pricey and not just in one way. Meeting new people and sharing at least this aspect of life with them is sometimes relieving, other times - it just adds to the cost. But, regardless of the price and the history you share, it's sometimes the most important who you can share a warm drink with at the end of the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First steps

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this idea is based off of my good friend [Alq's gorgeous art](http://rubytentacles.tumblr.com/post/93147729014/not-in-a-mood-for-drawing-sadly-but-i-can) and my girlfriend saying something like 'Oh, imagine Haizaki and Hanamiya having a Tattoo and Piercing studio, that would be so cool'. It was probably three in the morning. 
> 
> So I thought about it for a while and decided to give it a long and deep (and painful) plot. Of course, it's my duty as a fan and writer to share this pain with the whole fandom. Most of the characters will appear and play a big role, but that will happen gradually. I also don't want to spam with too many tags.
> 
> There are explanations at the bottom for the bolded names and terms for those who are not familiar with them~
> 
> I've been wanting to write a (proper) multichapter story for a while and maybe this time it'll work out. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it~

By definition, the word “uncrowned” means “one not formally crowned as a monarch”, “one not having yet assumed the crown”. The verb though – to ‘uncrown’ – means “to reduce from dignity or preeminence”, “to deprive of a crown”. Having said that, how should the term “Uncrowned King” be interpreted? One who is not yet crowned but will be soon enough, or one who has been deprived of a crown altogether, although it was rightfully his?

Among the people of Tokyo, mostly the youths who always seem to know a lot despite having no actual source of information, “uncrowned kings” had become more of an adjective in itself, a way to define a group of five former Yakuza boys who, for one reason or another, were cast out of their clans and were now otherwise occupied. Recognizing them was almost impossible, as they blended with society wonderfully and carried no striking or distinguishable markings. Some even speculated that the five did not exist and were just an urban legend. Whenever somebody would hear the story for the first time, they’d always ask why they were special enough to be talked about so often; there were many people who got excommunicated from the organization but were never mentioned, and definitely nobody went as far as to call them “kings”.  These boys, however, were all sons of clan leaders from the  **Sumiyoshi-kai** , this putting them in the position of potential future would-have-been leaders themselves. Also, they had all been cast out in the same year.

This, as well as the fact that all five of them had (supposedly) been repeatedly spotted at the same bar in Shinjuku that had opened around the time of their exile, was all the information the public had to work with. Of course, this in no way prevented people from decorating the story and changing it to their heart’s content. Everybody added a little bit here and there, made the boys’ fathers seem much more ruthless than they had actually been, described the five’s personalities and looks and even claimed to have met them, talked about them sometimes as if they were monsters, sometimes – as if they were saints who had seen the right path, romanticized them, even gave them hobbies, ideals, names.

In reality, almost all of those theories and stories were very wrong. Whenever they reached the ears of the five 'Kings' in question, they would laugh and probably add something else, to make the spreading rumors even more ridiculous. The truth was slightly less exciting than people would have liked it to be, which made it less satisfying to listen to, but also much more human than anybody not-involved would ever believe.

That was the true charm of it, really.

 

Given his intellect, as well as his family’s socioeconomic status, Hanamiya Makoto never would have thought he’d end up working what he did, especially at the age of 21. His entire life he’d thought all his future had in store for him was possibly taking his father’s place when he died. That is, unless he got himself shot until the time for that came. Despite all of the privileges this life offered him, he wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea of wasting it the way that he was and would most likely continue to. Even if leading a clan which operated in Shinjuku was probably a dream for a lot of others.

He’d been home-schooled after finishing the fifth grade and his socializing amounted to talking to his parents and tutors. His contact with all of his former friends had been more or less cut off. When he’d questioned this decision, he’d been told that, due to the recent acting up of some of the more hostile clans and the police’s response to this, he was to stay indoors and under surveillance until further notice. This had gone on for about a year or so without him protesting against it and he spent his time in studying, reading and barely going outside. If somebody asked him, he couldn’t say it had been  _depressing_ , but it had definitely been boring. After those twelve months though he’d gotten sick of the regime and had started doing as he pleased. He went out more, went to places he knew had increased police presence just for the kicks, spent outrageous amounts of money on things he didn’t care all that much about. This led to a lot of arguments with his father, but those rarely got to him; the one he was probably subconsciously trying to piss off was his mother, but she was his mother who always kept her distance from him and her husband. Usually it would be the opposite, since she was the one who was unemployed and had all the time in the world, but his father actually spent more time with him than she did despite how busy he was. Makoto didn’t particularly like either of them, though, neither did he feel them close, so it was all the same.

Sometime after he’d turned seventeen, he’d met Hara Kazuya . Looking back at it, he could say that this meeting more or less defined the rest of his life. He couldn't say if it had been for better or worse. They'd had enough things in common to get along – they were the same age, had somewhat violent tendencies (even though Hanamiya hadn’t had the opportunity to let those show before) and were the children of clan leaders. Their fathers were from rivaling families – Hara’s belonged to the  **Yamaguchi-gumi** , while Hanamiya’s to the Sumiyoshi-kai. What they both knew but never addressed was that, even if Hara’s father was lower ranking, he was much wealthier than Makoto’s, who was one of five who shared the  **oyabun** ’s power and influence.  

Despite his father’s warnings, Makoto had kept sneaking off to meet with the other boy almost daily until they’d both turned twenty. He started spending less and less time at home, sometimes not coming back for days. It was surprising even to Hanamiya how much influence Hara had on him, as _he_  was usually the one influencing others, but he simply couldn’t resist all the temptations the other offered him. He needed the diversity, he needed the physical contact, he needed the excitement, the  _sex_ , the late nights and early mornings at clubs and arcades, the fact that it was all so  _taboo_ and so much against his parents’ desires. For the first time ever, he felt alive.

What his family didn’t know was who Kazuya was very close friends with – Seto Kentaro. That was the son of one of the fifteen direct underlings of the Yamaguchi-gumi’s oyabun. Not only was he somebody to be weary of because of his status, he was also extremely violent. And the groups he was in charge of, which were one of the few newly appointed to operate in Tokyo, viewed all of their rivals very negatively and often ended up harassing their members in any way they could think of. Their territory was mainly in Ikebukuro and most people from other clans knew to avoid that neighborhood entirely. This being said, it was obvious that Makoto had no business with any of these people. But he was  _curious_  and didn’t care enough about himself back then to walk right into their arms.

Kentaro was seven years older than Hanamiya, being 24 when they had first met. He had been skeptical about it at first, but he’d ended up accepting the boy when he heard his convincing speeches about how much he disliked people in the Sumiyoshi-kai. And, even if it had happened gradually –probably over the course of a year or so- he had fallen for Makoto and had made him his. The other hadn’t protested, on the contrary – he’d enjoyed every second of getting pampered, trying all these new things and having mind-blowingly good sex daily (even if it was rather rough, he liked it all the same). And, of course, doing all of it behind his father’s back. He didn’t hesitate to dump his boyfriend-at-the-time for all of that, or to completely ignore every single warning he received from all those who claimed to care about him. He’d felt restrained for so long without realizing it and now he needed an escape. He’d needed it so much that, during an argument with his father a few weeks after his nineteenth birthday, he’d gotten angry enough to tell him that he’s gay and not simply a casual acquaintance of Seto’s, but that they had been fucking for the past year right under his nose and he’d been a shitty enough parent to not notice.

But he had almost immediately come to regret his words.

Makoto had planned to just piss of his father, to make him say something worthless like ‘I’m disappointed’ or send him to his room and forbid him from going out for a while, which he could easily overlook. But it had backfired,  _hard._  It had gotten him exiled from the clan. To save him from further shame, his father had agreed to take the penalty for him and had cut off the tip of his own little finger. But, since the humiliation that his father had spared him wouldn’t have been a big deal for Makoto anyway, another punishment had to be thought up. He was quickly removed from any list that could somehow tie him to their family and was given very clear information:

“No matter what, we will make sure it’s impossible for you to continue your studies or get a dignified job. For bringing such disgrace to us, you are to never return to face us here. Nothing can atone for what you did and the danger you brought us so close to. Live on the streets and see if those people who used you will take care of you now that you can’t be their rat.”

Regardless of how convinced he’d been that he could go to them again, Seto had become furious upon hearing what had happened and had shut the door in his face. The only thing he’d said is that Makoto had been an idiot for saying anything at all and that there were bigger things at stake than his little family issues. “You put me in danger, too.” He’d said, then slammed the door. He’d managed to get some money out of his bank account before it got shut down at least, so he could find a place to stay for a few nights. But, at that point, he panicked for probably the first time in his life.

Soon after, Hanamiya had heard that Kiyoshi Teppei, a middle school ‘friend’ of his, as well as his boyfriend for nearly three years, the one he’d duped for Seto, had cut his own ties with his clan after his parents had died earlier that same year and he’d been asked if he will take his father’s place. (And calling them ‘boyfriends’ would be kind of an exaggeration, or so Makoto preferred to think.)

This made two of them in less than a month.

The nickname ‘Uncrowned Kings’ didn’t appear until that autumn, when the other three had been kicked out or quit on their own as well, all for different reasons. When their fathers and Teppei’s grandfather had gathered to discuss their sons’ behavior and the decisions they’d made regarding the boys, they all came to the conclusion that it was a bad omen that all five of them who were sons of clan leaders and were supposed to possibly inherit the position were now gone.  Something bad was about to happen to Shinjuku, they reckoned. So they decided to be more merciful and help out their children after neglecting them for a while, even if it had to be indirect, lest they bring bigger disaster upon themselves.

That way, after cleaning floors at Starbucks for a few months while sleeping  on this or that kind-of-friend’s couch, Makoto finally received a his own apartment and a new bank account. It wasn’t very full, but it was quite enough to buy the empty studio on the ground floor of the same building, which he planned to turn into his own business. The three other boys had it much better - they received the penthouse of a building close to Hanamiya’s and the banged up Jazz bar underneath. Nobody knew what had happened to Kiyoshi, neither could they contact him, but they all secretly hoped they’d find out eventually.

Hanamiya had decided to take advantage of his talent for drawing and use it to open a tattoo studio, which he gave the catchy and inviting name ‘Fabric of Pain’, while Mibuchi, Hayama and Nebuya turned the basement of the Jazz bar into a gorgeous, spacious bar and called it ‘The Other Side’ after consulting Makoto (who should never be consulted about naming  _anything_ , especially gay bars).

And this is where our story begins, one year after both these places were officially opened for business and a new defining chapter of everybody’s lives began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Sumiyoshi-kai](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sumiyoshi-kai) \- The second largest Yakuza group, seated on Tokyo. Unlike other groups, it works similar to a federation. There is one boss, but he shares his power with several lower ranking men.
> 
>    
> [Yamaguchi-gumi](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yamaguchi-gumi) \- The largest Yakuza group, seated in Kobe but operates all over and outside of Japan and, since recently, in Tokyo as well. Some of the wealthiest gangsters in the world, controlling most of Japan's black market.
> 
>    
> Oyabun \- The 'big boss' of a group, who controls the clan leaders, who in turn control their gangs.
> 
> **A clan leader cutting off the tip of his own little finger to save an underling of his who has done something wrong is actually [a thing](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yakuza#Rituals).
> 
> The actual first proper chapter will be out in the next 1-2 days, so look forward to it if this got you interested~


	2. The Other Side

“He is such a troublesome brat,” Hanamiya whined, a hint of anger in his voice, as he set his Bailey’s on the table rather loudly. Reo cringed at the sound of glass hitting glass and wondered if the other purposely avoided the coaster so he could irritate him. “but he’s good at what he does, you know? The studio’s been blooming since he came to work for me. But I still sometimes regret hiring him. Ugh.” He leaned forward in defeat, two fingers going to play with the ice cubes in the small bowl in front of him.

Makoto rarely complained, honestly. He kept whatever made him feel bad to himself not because he thought it might be annoying for others to listen to him, but rather because it made him feel like they’d exploit it if he said too much. Not that he’d ever doubt Reo, but it had become a habit of sorts to avoid sharing in general. Listening to his friend whine about his personal life wasn’t exactly Mibuchi’s idea of a good time, but he still did it and occasionally pet his head, offering some half-hearted words of comfort.

“I don’t know much about this new colleague of yours, now that I think about it.” He sipped from his cocktail. “What do you think, is he my type?~” this earned him a glare, and Reo chuckled.

“He probably is.” Hanamiya exhaled loudly. “He’s an arrogant kid who has the audacity to be taller and meaner than me. _In my own house._ Can you believe that?”

“Oh? _Now_ I’m interested.”

“He’s underage, Princess, don’t even think about it.”

“Aww, and here I was getting my hopes up.”

“Knowing you, it wasn’t just your hopes…” he snorted at his own childish remark.

“Hey!” the taller of the two pouted. He did that rather often and it was kind of annoying, mostly because it was irresistibly cute, given his full lips and pretty face and all. “Anyway,” he dragged the word out, clearly annoyed. “You say he’s good, right? Would you entrust me to him?”

“For the last time, Reo-“

“Not like that! I mean for a piercing.”

Hanamiya raised a well-defined eyebrow while lazily looking up at the other from under his messy bangs. Since they never stayed in the ponytail he usually carried his hair in, he’d stopped even trying to tie them. His lips curved into his trademark smirk and laughed mockingly. “You want something pierced again? I thought you were gonna stop after you got those on your ears.”

“I’ve changed my mind. Plus, I want it just so I can take a few sexy photos for my blog.” Makoto rolled his eyes and took another sip from his drink.

“You honestly think it’s worth doing that just so you can get some guys on the other side of the screen to cream their dirty boxers?”

“I read about it, okay? Corset piercings can be temporary. And _yes,_ it’s worth it. Never heard you ask me that when it came to the other photos I’ve done crazy things for and you sure enjoyed _those.”_ Mibuchi smirked with triumph when the other looked away and uttered a ‘that’s beside the point’.

It was right after dark and “The Other Side” was going to open its second floor doors to its early customers soon. But there were still some fifteen minutes until then and the two friends were using them to catch up before Hayama had turned up the music enough for them to be unable to hear each other at all. It was relaxing having a drink with an old friend one in a while. They hadn’t had much time to talk in the past two years and opportunities like this were always treasured. And, since recently, they’d started becoming more and more frequent, now that all of them had settled comfortably into their new lives.

Not that they were particularly _close_ , but they still felt each other as family. Or at least as brothers in fate (maybe brother and sister would be more accurate, but it didn’t exactly matter to them how they phrased it).

 

The troublesome piercer in question was none other than Haizaki Shougo, nineteen years of age, whom twenty-one-year-old Hanamiya had recently saved on the street. One thing had led to another and now they lived together and the younger one had found an occupation at “Fabric of Pain”.

The kid hadn’t seemed like anything _impressive_ at first, with his ruffled up cornrows and torn up Hyperdunks. His story wasn’t anything Hanamiya hadn’t encountered before either – his father had left when he’d been young, then his brother had turned into the biggest asshole alive and had gotten involved with some nasty people, while his mom had slowly been going insane and taking it all out on him. He’d gotten kicked out of home, because they hadn’t been able to afford taking care of him anymore. He’d spent a few months sleeping here and there and had almost gotten himself killed several times because he liked causing unnecessary trouble.

Whether it’d been out of pity or because he saw a lot of himself in the kid Makoto didn’t know, but he’d ended up offering him to stay the night at his apartment. He was also very bored of living alone and not having anybody to tease, so this was a perfect opportunity to get a roommate. Of course, Haizaki had protested at first, called him a weirdo and creepy and denied the offer altogether.

“If you’re honestly stupid enough to refuse, it’s your own problem.” Hanamiya had told him. “Who knows, maybe you like living like a stray dog.” Although he hadn’t been lonely enough to _care_ if the boy came to live with him, he still felt somehow relieved when he’d received a positive answer after some angry huffing and more insults that he didn’t even bother to remember. So, that evening Makoto had cooked (a skill he’d been trying to perfect to avoid spending all his money on takeout) while the other told him more about himself. Shougo had randomly mentioned that he’s into piercings and that he had given a few to his friends for money. He’d also claimed to be good at it.

Since having a piercer at his studio seemed profitable, Hanamiya had suggested for Haizaki to work for him. Of course under the conditions that the other actually had some proper training (which he’d pay for) and was serious about it. In all his life, he’d never seen anybody be happier because of him (and it made him immediately regret his decision).

The first week in which they’d lived together had been great – Haizaki had slept on the couch for three nights, then they’d gone to buy him a bed (from IKEA, of course) which they placed in the otherwise empty guest room. In the meantime, he’d studied under a piercer who conveniently owed Hanamiya a favor (later, he’d start asking exactly _how many_ people owed Hanamiya a favor). Aside from eating and cussing a lot, he hadn’t caused much trouble. But it takes a while for the devil to show his horns, or so they say.

Sometime during the first few days in which he’d started working at the studio, maybe after he’d become pretty popular among the young female clients who came for a small tattoo and left with both that and some new piercings, Shougo had become cocky. And not just in the sense that he was _proud_ of himself, he was arrogant, pretentious about the kind of music they played in the studio and when he could take breaks and all kinds of other things like that. It drove Makoto _insane,_ and he was constantly tempted to chase him out, and they _did_ argue constantly and it was ugly but he was _still_ his piercer and still that kid he’d inexplicably kind of related to. So he couldn’t just _kick him out._ (Obviously not because he’d feel _guilty_ or anything, but because he’d be betraying _himself_ like that. Obviously.)

So days had gone on like that, until Makoto had gotten pissed off enough to complain to the only person he knew who’d listen to him rant about his issues.

 

“If he bothers you so much, why don’t you just chase him out? Or,” he hurried to add before the other’s glare had intensified. “you could talk to him about it?”

“I ha-“

“ _Calmly.”_ Reo sighed and relaxed back in the chair, touching two fingers to his forehead. Being everybody’s personal therapist was honestly exhausting at times, even if he enjoyed the role; at least those who used him as such called him ‘big sister’ to make him feel better about it. _How considerate._ He was perfectly aware that his friend would most likely not listen to his advice, as he was unable of explaining things _calmly_ , but maybe a miracle would happen _just this once._ “Anyway, shouldn’t you be going? You said you’re not in the mood to be around people tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m really not.” He downed his drink, glanced at Reo’s cocktail, then shook his head. “You know, this would all be a whole lot easier if he wasn’t hot.”

“Oh?” Mibuchi chuckled. “My, my, are you falling for him, Mako-chan? Isn’t it too early?”

“Shut up, who would be? I’m just stating the obvious, idiot.” Reo leaned forward and took a thoughtful sip of his strawberry daiquiri. At this point he knew it would be wisest to distract his friend before he left, lest he goes and gets awfully drunk elsewhere, most likely at Seto’s. That was never good.

“Did you hear about that new J-Rock singer whose debut album will be coming out this fall?”

“You know I don’t listen to shit like that, it’s boring.” Reo sighed, reminding himself to be patient.

“But it’s that model, Himuro! I saw him in “Hanako” and he’ll be in this month’s “Junon”, too! He’s quite handsome, you have to admit~” Hanamiya sighed and relaxed back in his chair, crossing his arms on his chest.

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

As if he’d been waiting for this, Mibuchi made his way to the DJ stand where Hayama was looking through records and smiling at nothing in particular. Even from where he was sitting, Hanamiya could see that the blonde had stolen Nebuya’s headphones –big, white ones which couldn’t stand on Kotarou’s head unless he held them.  Reo retrieved something from there, pat the blonde on the head and returned to his ‘guest’. As he sat down, he placed the newest issue of “Hanako” magazine on the table between them and flicked through the pages quickly. Makoto couldn’t help but notice how the clear nail polish that other was wearing glistered even in the dim light as his hands moved.

“Ah, there it is~” Once he came to a halt, he turned the magazine towards Hanamiya and placed a well-manicured finger on the model in question’s face. Makoto had to narrow his eyes to see properly, but he eventually managed to distinguish the young man. “He’s been becoming more and more popular recently and that single he released is pretty good. He’s just 17, can you believe that?”

Hanamiya pulled the magazine closer and lifted it to his face in order to be able to read the text in between the ridiculous modeling poses the supposed idol had been photographed in. He mentally cussed at how dark the club was. The text didn’t say much, of course, just who the guy was and how he was “a very promising star to be rising on the horizon of J-Rock” or something else among those lines. Pop culture journalism made him sick to his stomach with its mediocre choice of words, but there he was, still reading it. Fuck Reo for that. He tossed the magazine towards his companion with a sneer.

“He doesn’t seem like anything special, really. Just another one-month distraction for young girls to swoon over.”

“We’ll see, his music actually doesn’t sound that bad~”

“Why are we even discussing this? Do you actually think I care about stuff like this? The only time I’d ever touch a magazine like that is when you shove it in my hands.”

“I know, I know, you only listen to those American bands that make my head hurt.” After a short pause they both laughed, each for their own reasons. Then Hanamiya (finally) stood up and threw his hoodie over his shoulder after taking it from the back of his chair. “Come by again soon.” Reo smiled and Makoto just waved his hand in dismissal (meaning that he was definitely going to be back, but like Hell he’d say some sentimental bullshit about it). Since this was the way they always parted, neither of them felt obliged to do anything more.  

“I’ll fire him tonight.” Hanamiya said rather loudly on his way out and Reo chuckled.

“Whatever you say.” The noise and jazz form upstairs flooded inside for a second, then it vanished when the door closed.

“Reo-nee, aren’t you going to get changed tonight?” Nebuya asked from one of the couches at the other end of the bar. He’d retrieved his headphones from Hayama and was adjusting the headband. Mibuchi glanced down at his clothes, having forgotten that he’s wearing a (fairly) civil outfit, then shrugged and leaned against the table, drink in hand.

“I don’t think I’m in the mood for heels tonight, Eikichi.”

 

 

Two years later, “Fabric of Pain” still had the same piercer and business was going great, as it had been for the past year.  Haizaki’s attitude rarely got to Hanamiya these days and the two lived in (relative) harmony, even though they constantly tried to get on each other’s nerves with snarky remarks. Rules had been established, of course – Shougo was forbidden from bringing any girls or any of his shitty friends over to their apartment, he was also _absolutely_ not allowed to smoke indoors. And he had to keep tidy, as well as do his own laundry and dishes, which he protested against the most, but still did it anyway.

Regardless of how many times Makoto had sworn to fire his not-exactly-friend, he hadn’t done it. The reason remained unknown even to him, though his excuse was usually ‘He’s just really good at giving piercings’ or ‘He’s already popular’ or something else of the sort. Reo knew better than to press his friend to talk about it more than necessary, though he occasionally couldn’t hold back an amused laugh or teasing comment.

The three Uncrowned Kings who owned “The Other Side” hadn’t changed much for those two years, either.  Nebuya and Hayama were still happily dating, each occupied with their preferred job at the bar. Kotarou seemed to have developed a (quite irritating) obsession with Limp Bizkit; he played their songs _too_ often for anybody’s liking and most of the regular guests groaned collectively when he did. Yet, people rarely left, since that bar had become more or less home for a lot of its visitors. He also loved informing everybody about the origin of the band’s name and often got death threats from Hanamiya because of it. Eikichi usually scolded his boyfriend for playing annoying music and started suggesting better songs for the blonde to put on, remaining loyal to his own more western tastes. Recently, it’s been mostly Eminem. And it’s not like Hayama isn’t a huge Eminem fan, he just refuses to yield because he’s impossibly stubborn about music and the two usually end up arguing which fluidly turns into them making out in the DJ booth until the song ends.

Reo was still flirting with everybody he finds to be above an 8 on the 1-10 scale, sometimes settling for the occasional 7 if he’s had enough to drink or if the guy has a nice enough car or watch or something else shiny to attract his inner magpie. And it’s all because he’s looking for that ‘perfect man’ they all know he’s never going to find because such a man doesn’t exist, but they still support him after every disappointment. And, at this point, it’s not like Mibuchi is _surprised_ after the breakups or after the disappointments. Even though he still swooned over attractive guys the way he used to all the way back when he was 14 and he can’t look beyond the haze in his eyes and see that they’re not _all that_ at first and he still falls hopelessly in love sometimes, he’d learned to be mature enough to get over it afterwards. If he _does_ end up crying in his room, the bar is usually closed for the night, so Nebuya and Hayama can go and comfort him with some stupid movie and lots of snacks. It is always greatly appreciated.

Hanamiya had started going to “The Other Side” almost every evening for a drink or two or five, depending on how shitty his day had been or how many girls had come asking for a tattoo of their boyfriend’s name somewhere on their body that he’d had to turn down. Well, besides those who were so painfully dumb that they deserved it. And he sat at the bar and checked all the newcomers out and almost always found something to mock them about, even the attractive ones. Or, more so – _especially_ them.

For all of them, life had stepped on a certain road some time ago and it refused to stray even for a bit. They all knew it was repetitive, they all disliked that, but _that_ type of repetitive offered them the necessary amount of diversity. If anything, it was better than before. They couldn’t complain, really.

At some point during those two years (none of them could really say when exactly, just that it’d been the beginning of summer – or had it been towards the end?), “The Other Side” had gotten a new main barman, since the old one had decided to go work elsewhere. The new guy was a member of a biker gang that was pretty popular around Tokyo, especially because their leader was a woman (Masako Araki, was she?). It was kind of surprising for a guy like him to be gay, with his very masculine looks and bleached hair, but then again Nebuya wasn’t exactly a stereotype, either. It wasn’t until much later after he’d been hired that he actually got drunk and shared that he was actually bi and it had taken all three owners to convince him that it didn’t really matter what his preference was. His name was Wakamatsu and he got hired after giving Reo a ride on his gorgeous black Megelli 250R the first time he’d visited the bar. He turned out to actually be good at handling the bottles and glasses and it didn’t take him too long to learn some attractive tricks. He was also young (24 when they’d hired him, 25 now), enjoyed the idea of lighting alcohol on fire and didn’t mind talking to clients who weren’t too obnoxious, so he was perfect for the job.

On a –yet another- cool summer night, Hanamiya had finally managed to drag Haizaki to “The Other Side”, because the other had wanted to drink something but his friends had ditched him because they were wonderful people. Of course, he’d whined on the whole way there, but it had had no effect on Makoto.

“I keep telling you I don’t want to go to that place!”

“But you’re still walking. Stop complaining, we’re almost there. You’re like a kid, I swear.” Shougo just grunted and dug his hands deeper in his pants’ pockets, looking up at the sky with clear annoyance. Hanamiya glanced at him, raising his eyebrows slightly, a smirk stretching his lips. “Are you finally curious about what it’s like getting your dick sucked by a guy?”

“What?!” Haizaki immediately turned his head to his companion, eyes glaring dangerously despite the look of disbelief on his face. That was quickly replaced by overexaggerated disgust and he pretended to gag. “Why the Hell would I be? I’m just coming along so I can drink something nice and look at some girls making out.” He paused for a few moments. “…girls _do_ come to this place, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, if that’s _really_ all you care about.”

Hanamiya couldn’t not chuckle at the way Shougo wrinkled his nose when they entered through the front door, where the Jazz bar was. But he didn’t let him pout for too long before leading him to the door in the back, from where they went down the stairs. Haizaki hadn’t missed the opportunity to ask Makoto why he was taking him to some weird basement and if he was going to wake up with a missing kidney.

“Shut up, stupid, that’s not even how it works.” Was the only response he got. At that point, he knew better not to wonder if Hanamiya really knew _how_ it works.

 The Jazz part of the bar was a relatively shady place, where people who worked for the Uncrowned Kings’ parents went to keep track of what the sons were doing and to make sure that they weren’t overstepping their boundaries. They weren’t allowed to talk to them, but the surveillance was necessary.

For all it was worth, “The Other Side” was actually a very nice place – despite being underground, it was very spacious, with a high ceiling and seemingly very comfortable furniture. Most of the walls were a deep, metallic grey with silhouettes painted on them in bright colors. Reo had explained that the people drawn on the walls were actually all real individuals, including the five Uncrowned Kings and some of the people they’d befriended who came to the bar often or who they’d known and cared about in the past. There was still plenty of space to add new ones, too, and the occasional new person appeared with his own color and story. The one requested to draw them was Makoto, of course, and he didn’t really mind doing it. The floor was on different levels, some of the tables and sofas leaning on the short walls of cozy circles that were sunken in in comparison to the rest of the floor, and some that were closer to the walls were raised higher on circular platforms. Everything was lit from different places and in different colors, but the light itself wasn’t bright enough to be irritating. There were speakers inside some of the parts which were sunken in, in some of them they were embedded into the sofas so the bass could be felt properly, as Hayama had put it. In others there were no speakers at all, so it was easier to talk.

The bar itself was circular and in the middle of everything, surrounded by typical long-legged stools. There were lights on the inner side of the wooden bar, so it always seemed like it’s glowing dimly from the inside. Some 10 meters behind it, raised above everything else, was Kotarou’s ‘hawk nest’, a.k.a. the DJ booth, from where one could see everything that happened. Under that was the small stage, equipped fully for karaoke or pole dancing, depending on what they felt like doing. All of the sofas and chairs consisted of smooth black polished wood and light purple, borderline grey, cushions with colorful pillows thrown around here and there (even on the ground, for those who preferred to sit on the floor, which the stair-like structure made very comfortable). There was a peculiar but very pleasant smell always lingering in the air, probably from the luxurious air fresheners Reo kept in each corner.

“I think I see why you come here so often...” Shougo said rather quietly, as if more to himself than to Hanamiya, as he examined the space from the doorframe. When he received a bracelet on his wrist, he looked at Makoto in frustration. “Hey, how come I’m the only one who gets one of these? Am I an animal that needs to be branded, what the Hell?”

“Calm down, everybody gets them. It’s because they all know me but they don’t know you. _Yet._ ”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Wait until Reo hears you have a dick piercing.” For some reason, that thought made Haizaki almost turn around and run, even though he had never met Mibuchi in his life (at this point he was willing to assume that he was the big, buff and tanned guy who Hanamiya kept mentioning whenever Shougo whined that he’s too lazy to go for a jog or something).

“…please don’t tell your weird friends I have a dick piercing.” He uttered when he caught up to Hanamiya who had just ditched him at the door without so much of a ‘come along’.

“If you’re good.”

This was going to be a great night, he could already tell.

“Mako-chan!” It was Mibuchi, surprisingly not in a dress but still dressed feminine enough for one to not be concerned about his emotional state. He ran to Makoto and hugged him, almost knocking them both over (why was he so tall…), then looked Shougo up and down, lips forming a small ‘o’ of approval. So _this_ was the piercer. But he didn’t get the opportunity to say anything:

“You haven’t greeted me like this for a long time, though I can’t say I’ve missed it.” Hanamiya blew the hair out of his face (even though it fell right back into place and he’d known it would). “What has made our Princess so happy tonight?”

Haizaki was just standing there, feeling more awkward than usual, and not exactly sure whether he’d prefer it if _this_ was Reo or if the big black dude was.

“Do you know who’s _here?_ ”

“No, and I probably don’t care, but you’re still going to tell me anyway.” As if Makoto hadn’t said anything, Mibuchi grabbed both of them by the wrists and dragged them over to the bar (Shougo mentally noted that he was surprisingly strong for a guy in high waisted booty shorts and a tight turtleneck). Because of the carefully planned locations of the speakers, it was actually the easiest to hear what people were saying exactly there and on some of the tables farthest from the center, where the bass did not distort the music so much. The general acoustics of the room allowed this kind of sound distribution. Of course, the three owners had paid a lot of money to an architect to design it in such a way, but they didn’t regret it one bit.

“Look!” even after he’d narrowed his eyes, Hanamiya couldn’t see anybody special in the bar besides the usual suspects – the pink haired girl and her policeman boyfriend who he could only assume was a ganguro in his free time (they were both straight, why did they even come here) talking to the blonde model who they always let in even though he was just 19, the purple Shingeki no Kyojin extra playing on his phone somewhere in the back and a few less memorable people who seemed like they never left. Reo placed his hands on either side of Makoto’s head and directed it towards one of the lower tables. “It’s Himuro Tatsuya.”

“Who?”

“The rock star I’ve been mentioning a lot recently, you can’t not remember! I even told you about him two years ago, before he became such a big shot!” Makoto raised one eyebrow at Reo, which he thought expressed his current feelings very well, which were stuck between ‘why do you think I’d remember your celebrity crushes’ and ‘why are you pretending to be a hipster’. He still honestly tried to look for information in his head, but he remembered nothing about such a person. “I even played you one of his songs the other day and you said ‘whatever’.”

“That means I wasn’t really paying attention, you know.”

“Yeah, but you said it with a different tone than usual, so I assumed…” Reo sighed in defeat. “All you need to know is that he’s popular and I like him and he’s _here,_ so maybe he’d be _interested,_ so I want to hit on him but he’s underage.” Hanamiya shrugged.

“You can just _talk_ to him without it leading to sex.” He suggested. The looks he got from Haizaki and Mibuchi were both priceless, as if he’d suggested something that was either very illegal or impossible. Yeah, the night was still good. “I don’t even know how you can get him in bed when you’re so star struck.”

“Oh, shh, I’m not star struck! It’s just, you know, a bit unnerving that he’s so young…”

“…why did you even let him in? Or is there a different policy for _models_ who are underage?”

“We’re not responsible for people who have agents.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, there’s no such policy _anywhere._ That’s not even _legal,_ Reo- Oh, forget it; it’s not me who’ll get sued.“

“Hey, they used to let _me_ in bars when I was younger.” Haizaki said, shrugging his shoulders lightly.

“You had a fake ID, it doesn’t count.”

“Calm down, Mako-chan, it’s not like we serve them alcohol. And since when do you even care about this stuff?” Hanamiya looked away and leaned forward, arms crossed on the bar and his head leaning on them. There was nothing he wanted to say, really, so he kept quiet and let Shougo feel awkward as Hell while Reo swooned over Himuro.

Just as Mibuchi had gathered the courage to go talk to the idol, the seat next to him got occupied by none other than Murasakibara Atsushi. Tatsuya had pulled out his phone the moment he’d caught sight of the other and was pretending to be extremely busy with it. But the taller of the two seemed extremely set on getting the other to pay attention to him, so he kept talking and poking him and generally causing a fuss until he got his much desired response.

“He’s obviously drunk,” Mibuchi stated, annoyance clear in his voice. “and why is he bothering Himuro so much, it’s not like he _knows_ him.”

“It’s not like it matters, right? Just means that kid has bad taste, since he’s not telling him to go away.” Hanamiya turned around and nudged Haizaki’s arm rather roughly. “Shougo, stop being so antisocial and say something.”

“First – you’re a hypocrite, since you’re the one who’s usually awkward and quiet and second – how am I even supposed to take part in this conversation? I don’t think that guy is hot, he’s a _guy_.”

“Thank you for your input.” Makoto rolled his eyes, then continued. “Let’s get something to drink, I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah, drinks sound nice.” Reo puffed his cheeks in frustration while glancing over his shoulder at Himuro, then turned to Wakamatsu and started ordering while complaining.

“Finally something we can agree on.” Shougo sat on one of the chairs and was handed a Mojito soon after. The first sip of a cocktail is always the most important, since it will either suck or be great, there is no in between.

 He was happy to establish that it was delicious.

The night ticked away without anybody noticing it in the company of their cocktails. Haizaki was relieved (although still a bit terrified) that the sweet, bubbly one was indeed Reo. They talked about nothing in particular and Shougo got an occasional hit upside the head when he stared too much at the girls. Mibuchi liked to know everything about everyone, and he thought everybody else felt the same, so he usually just dumped a lot of information on whoever he was talking to. Thus, by the end of the night, Haizaki was as well informed about all the current (notable) guests of the bar – their names, what they did for a living, some random facts about them that he almost immediately forgot- as Reo himself was. He could only wonder how much _more_ Reo could and would tell him if he actually _asked_.

The talk of the night remained Himuro Tatsuya, though. Murasakibara had left him alone after about an hour of trying to get his attention but receiving nothing more than a few brief and forced replies. The idol was now visibly more relaxed and had substituted playing on his phone for talking with another rather famous young man – Kise. The two were sitting next to each other, the blonde holding his orange juice in one hand and gesturing enthusiastically with the other and shifting his position _too_ often. Himuro had relaxed between the armrest and the back of the sofa, occasionally reaching for his Coke and taking long sips through the straw. He usually laughed in the short pauses when the other wasn’t talking.

The fact that Haizaki kept glancing at them and muttering profanities under his breath had not been missed by either of his companions. The only difference between them was that Hanamiya didn’t really _care_ , while Reo was insanely curious. And he kept _asking_ while sitting on the bar right next to Shougo’s face and almost knocking his drink over.

“That guy – Ryouta…we spent one year in middle school together.” Hanamiya choked on the water he’d been drinking.

“ _You went to school?_ ” he asked as he hit himself lightly on the chest and coughed.

“Shut up, Makoto.” Haizaki turned his back to his ‘friend’, now facing Mibuchi completely. “I was on the basketball team and he applied to it, too, the little shit. We used to fight a lot and in the end I got kicked out of the team for being too violent or something ridiculous like that. As if I care.” He finished his drink with one big gulp. “Point is, I don’t like him and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like me.”

“I see.” Reo let out a thoughtful ‘hmm’ and put his right index finger to his lips.  “I didn’t know he played basketball. Maybe that’s why he has such a nice build.”

“Is that really all that was important from what I said…”

“Yup.” Hanamiya chuckled from behind him and pat him rather roughly on the back, earning himself a glare and a loud ‘Hey!’.

“Why is he talking to that singer, anyway? I know they’re both kind of famous, but that doesn’t mean they have to know each other, right?”

“Ah, there are rumors going around that they’ll be starring in some drama together. We’ll get more info in their upcoming interviews in “Junon”. ”

“Oh, great, _another_ thing you won’t shut up about. Don’t tell me you’re going to…what was that word you had used- _‘ship’_ them?”

“I can’t know that yet! But…” Reo looked at the two boys again and tilted his head to the left slightly. “Yeah, I probably will.” He took Hanamiya’s water and drank a bit from it. Makoto knew better than to protest. Mibuchi ran his index finger over the rim of the glass, eyes glistering slightly from the alcohol and the fact that his thoughts were obviously elsewhere. Shougo had taken out his phone and was playing some game on it. Hanamiya still hadn’t stopped laughing at him for having a slider phone, but Haizaki didn’t care; he was very convinced that it was ‘cool’ and ‘masculine’.

Soon enough the two idols got picked up by their respective bodyguards and left. However, even without them, at 3:30 a.m the bar was pretty full.

“What are you gonna do tomorrow?” Reo broke the silence. His question was undoubtedly directed towards Makoto. The man in question stopped twirling the strand of hair he’d caught between his fingers and took a moment to think before answering.

“Ah, let’s see…I have these two people who wanted some small tattoos in the morning, they called a few days ago about it. And then, at 2 p.m., there’s this guy who’s supposed to come for ‘something big he wants to discuss with a pro first’.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, well, he sounded kind of weird on the phone. Even creepy, I guess?”

“Want me to send Eikichi to…?”

“Pff, don’t be ridiculous. Plus, if something happens and _I_ can’t handle it, I have _this_ guy.” He pointed at Haizaki with his thumb. He was still playing on his phone and didn’t pay any attention to them at all. “…he’s totally reliable, don’t let that appearance fool you.” Mibuchi smiled.

“Sure. Anything else you know about this guy?”

“Not yet and I’m not that excited to find out. But if it’s a big project, I’ll deal with whatever. I haven’t had anything interesting in quite a while, so.” He bit his lip. “Oh, and he had this weird way of talking. A Kansai dialect, I think. Kind of reminds me of that confused old man who makes sushi at Numazukou, he’s fucking terrifying.”

“I remember him from that time the four of us went to eat there together.” Mibuchi nodded. “He really was kind of scary…Don’t you think you should get some rest if you have something big to do tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I probably should.” As if to confirm this, Makoto yawned and stretched his shoulders a bit. “And I’m getting kind of uncomfortable on this chair.” He slipped off of it and kicked the one Haizaki was sitting on. “Come on, we’re going home.”

“Fine, fine, no need to be an ass.”

“I can feel the love.” Reo laughed. The two said bye to Wakamatsu and headed for the door. “No need to even try with Kotarou, he’s not going to notice you at all. And Eikichi went to bed early for once.”

“How sweet.”

The temperature outside actually seemed pretty low compared to what it was down at the bar and Hanamiya deeply regretted not taking a hoodie. Even though the distance to his place wasn’t that big – about thirty five minutes by foot, even two of those seemed too long. He didn’t complain about it _too much_ and Haizaki didn’t mock him about it too much, either.  The only thing he was exceptionally pissed off about was that he felt too cold to eat the ice cream had been waiting for him in the freezer the entire day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad I managed to get this done before the trainwreck that will be the upcoming week has started. It's pretty obvious who Hanamiya's 'big client' is, but the next chapter won't be about them; it'll focus mainly on Himuro, Atsushi and Kise instead.
> 
> If you're curious,[this](http://livedoor.blogimg.jp/mdr_ex2008/imgs/1/d/1dcb0863.jpg) is Shougo's phone. 
> 
> Oh, something important - Jaegervega is drawing ref sheets of the characters. For now only Hanamiya is ready, but you can expect everybody to gradually appear as they do in the story. You can see Hanamiya[here](http://jaegervega.tumblr.com/post/102779875831/okay-so-this-is-for-a-knb-au-that-has-yakuza-a)~


	3. Busy Day

“Would you tilt your head up a bit more, please?” Himuro had to fight his habit of brushing the hair out of his face as to not ruin it as he tipped his chin up. He couldn’t help squinting a bit after the flash of the camera went off. Photoshoots were always a drag, especially when he had to wear things one would usually only put on in the late autumn while it was, in fact, still July. ‘But it’s cloudy’, his agent had told him ‘so it should be fine.’ Cloudy as it was, it was also extremely humid and his jeans were sticking to him and driving him insane. He refused to accept that it was his own fault for dressing in such a way; he’d been asked to wear something stylish. Ah yes, the vaguest description ever. Sometimes he wondered if he didn’t prefer it when magazines picked out the outfits for him, even if they sometimes ended up being ridiculous.

He walked over to the bench a few meters away from him and sat down on it at the request of the photographer. The bench was tattered, with the paint peeling away in quite a few places and the legs being rusty. He was instructed to move slightly to his right so the graffiti on the back could be visible; it wasn’t particularly interesting (just some semi-meaningful quote in English written in a pretty font), but he guessed it would make the photo more appealing. It did read “Starring role”, after all.

Throughout the entire photoshoot, though, he was growing more and more irritated. They took an unnecessary amount of photos – the article would use just two or three, why did they need so many?, and his co-star-to-be was nowhere to be seen. Now, he wasn’t particularly _excited_ to meet the blond in question, but he wasn’t thrilled by being the only one going through this, either. When they were done making him smile mysteriously at the camera and seductively tug on his shirt’s collar, they all sat down for some snacks and coffee. He sat on the back of the bench again, since the view of the ocean was the best from there and sipped his cappuccino away from the others. This didn’t prevent him from hearing the distant sound of his agent excitedly explaining something and laughing at his own jokes, but the thundering of the waves was enough to make that seem surreal.

Just as he was beginning to enjoy the newly arrived cold wind coming from the water a car parked some ten meters away from him (stupidly close to the edge of the cliff, really), and the back door opened. Himuro caught himself grimacing with displeasure and took an angry sip from his cup before erasing all traces of anything unwelcoming on his face.

“Hi.” He greeted the boy who stumbled out of the car, talking to what he could only assume was the driver while giggling.

“Oh, oh, hello!” Kise shook his hand, grinning widely. In their line of work introductions were really kind of unnecessary, so neither of them bothered with it. The blond because he was sure everyone knew who he is and Himuro because everyone _did_ know who he is. “Sorry I took a while to get here, we got kind of lost. But it’s all fine now! Hope you didn’t wait for too long.” the only thought going through his head was ‘This guy’s literally an hour late with Starbucks. Why couldn’t it be ten minutes, then it would have actually been funny’.

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry.” He was about to say something else, but Kise sat next to him and started talking instead.

“They have to take a bunch of photos and ask us some questions, right? That’s probably going to take a while…”

“Well, the questions got postponed for tomorrow, the interviewer couldn’t make it. So I guess I’ll be leaving when we’re done here.”

“Aaah, what a pleasant surprise! I wasn’t in the mood to talk to journalists at all. Hey, you and me could go hang out after the photoshoot, what do you say? We need to get to know each other before filming, after all!”

Oh. _Magnificent._

“I see no harm in that.” Himuro offered his sweetest smile. He’d always been thankful for having the ability to do this in any situation, but his gratitude had peaked ever since he’d become a public figure.

Now, he couldn’t exactly call himself a _sociable_ person. Actually, he was quite introverted. Most people who found out about this refused to believe it, saying things like ‘But you keep attending public events!’ and ‘Don’t be silly, you’re a star! How can an introvert go out on stage?’. He usually ignored their misconceptions about the definition of the word ‘introvert’ and chose to laugh off their comments. But Kise didn’t seem to be _that_ bad and he _did_ need somebody his age to hang out with who treated him as a normal human being.

They were asked by the photographers to stand in a few cute and few “appealing” poses, some more suggestive than others. Then Himuro was dismissed and offered to play on his phone until they were done with Kise’s photos. He couldn’t do much but put on his headphones and do what he was told. Surprisingly, by the time he was done checking his social media and sending Snapchats to a few select friends, the blond was sitting next to him and talking. He hesitated about taking off his headphones but did it anyway, just to be greeted by:

“…what do you say?~”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine~ I was just asking if you’re still okay with going somewhere together? Like to Starbucks? I could use another Frappuccino and you look like you could, too.” Overcoming the great urge he had to remark that the blond said _too_ many words per second, Himuro smiled and agreed. “Awesome. We’ll leave with my car, I don’t see yours around anyway.”

He didn’t feel the need to explain that he’d sent his driver away with the arrangement he’d call him later to come pick him up. Kise’s car was, to be expected, bright yellow. Even if he wasn’t very knowledgeable in this area, Tatsuya could distinguish the trademark ‘face’ of the Mitsubishi Eclipse.  It was very comfortable on the back seat and he was so overwhelmed by all the information his colleague was giving him, he honestly didn’t notice when they got back to Shinjuku. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant listening to him though, especially now that he was used to it.

They got dropped off at the Starbucks near Tokyoidai Hospital and got an extremely warm welcome by the group of girls sitting on the table closest to the door. After giving a few autographs and taking a bunch of photos with their fans, the two sat down all the way at the bottom of the café with their drinks. The barista had been a fan of Himuro’s and had also asked for a photo.  But he’d lost interest in the two as soon as somebody he’d referred to as ‘Shin-chan’ had walked in.

“That’s Midorimacchi.” Kise had explained after greeting the man in question (and getting ignored). “We’ve known each other since forever. He’s a doctor.”

“I probably shouldn’t be asking, but…why is his hair green? With that type of job…”

“Ah,” Kise had waved his hand up and down while taking a sip from his drink. “I’m partially responsible for that. I made him dye it like that when we were younger, along with a bunch of other friends. It’s cause we all have colorful names, so our hair should match!”

“That’s…”  ‘ _kind of ridiculous?’_ he thought, but ended up saying“…kind of cool, I guess.”

“Hey,” the blond pouted and pointed at Himuro with his right index finger. “ _you_ dye your fringe weird colors all the time!”  _‘But I’m a teenage rock star, not some fancy doctor’_ ; but he didn’t voice those thoughts.

“I guess you have a point.”

“I am so glad we’re going to be filming together!” Himuro chuckled.

“You already said that.”

“Oh, I did? I’m sorry! I’m just kind of nervous, haha…I mean, I have all your albums and stuff. You’re so cool.”

“Really? I never would have expected you to be nervous…You’re kind of the one who got me motivated to get into modeling. And then one thing led to another and…I guess you’re responsible for all those albums, in a way.” Himuro was really tempted to take out his phone and snap a photo of Kise’s expression. It was absolutely priceless, but also slightly worrisome – it seemed like he was about to cry.  “Hey, um” he reached for him instinctively “are you alright, did I say something wrong…?”

The blond grabbed his hand in both of his and squeezed tight, grinning widely.

“I’m just _really happy_ , this is _amazing..!”_ Tatsuya sighed and sat back in his chair, withdrawing his hand from the other’s grip. “So! Usually here’s where I’d ask the person to tell me more about them, but-“

“…but you already know plenty about me?” they both laughed.

“I’m sorry, that sounds a bit creepy…” Kise shrugged his shoulders, raising his eyebrows in an apologetic manner.

“Not at all. I know a lot about you, too. It’s normal, since we’re both celebrities.”

“That’s true…I still know just about your music and your career, though! And I want to get to know you as a person, not just as a star, you know?”

“I understand, I feel the same.” Tatsuya smiled heartwarmingly and took his time with enjoying his drink. “What would you like to know?” Kise wondered about it for a while, thoughtfully sipping his Frappuccino.

“Oh, I know! I know you’ve lived in America, what was that like?”

“It wasn’t anything that special, really. I met some nice people, played some basketball. But I’m glad we moved back to Japan, that place wasn’t for me.”

“You play basketball, too? I used to too, in middle school. But I kind of lost interest in it after that, haha. Though I still gather with some close friends to do it once in a while.”

“That sounds nice.” Himuro was slightly distracted by the man with the green hair awkwardly flirting with the barista. Or, more like, being hit on by the barista and being flustered. He couldn’t help but notice how weird the contrast between his hair and the redness in his cheeks was.

“Midorimacchi is actually one of those friends. Even though he’s kind of older than me…” it was as if Kise felt that the conversation would become too serious, so he changed the mood before Himuro could answer. “So, so, it’s your turn to ask me something!”

“Hmm…alright. What do you enjoy doing in your free time?”

“Oh, a lot of stuff! It’s kind of embarrassing telling _you_ this, but I really like going to sing karaoke…” the blond’s face flushed slightly. “What about you?~”

“Well, since you told me something embarrassing, I’ll do the same.” For a moment, it appeared to Himuro that Kise’s ears had perked as he leaned closer. Maybe he expected to hear some juicy secret…? “I really like drawing when I have the time to, I even paint a little bit.”

“Waaah! That’s so cool! You’re so talented! All I was ever good at are sports.”

“That’s still pretty amazing, you know.”

“Ah! I should introduce you to Murasakibaracchi! He paints stuff, too! Well, he used to, I mean, but still, you two should totally meet!”

“Murasaki…if he’s like the green haired one…don’t tell me, he dyes his hair purple?”

“Yes, actually. He really likes the color, he even wears contacts occasionally.” Himuro couldn’t hold back his laughter properly. All the guys the blond had told him about were hilarious. But suddenly something clicked in the back of his mind and interrupted his giggling fit.

“Wait…you couldn’t possibly mean _Murasakibara Atsushi,_ the famous painter?” Kise grinned and nodded.

“Yup.” Tatsuya bit his lower lip. He’d heard so much about this artist and he’d seen most of his works. He’d idolized him when he’d been younger and he had been the inspiration for his short-term obsession with being a painter himself.

“Would it…would it really be fine for me to meet him? Since he vanished two years ago..?”

“He didn’t _vanish,_ he just stopped drawing and locked himself in his apartment.” Kise sighed. “We all tried talking to him, but he keeps saying it’s too bothersome to draw, that he’s not inspired, stuff like that. I’m pretty sure there were a few articles talking about how he started taking drugs and was ruining his career.”

Himuro didn’t really have anything to say to that; he’d read all those articles and he’d hated each and every one of them. But the idea of getting to meet this man was getting him oddly excited.

“Do you want me to introduce you?” Kise grinned. The other could only nod eagerly. They agreed to go visit him a few days later, during the weekend, when they both had the time to do so. After that their conversation continued somehow more smoothly.

From one of the tables closest to the bar the two were being occasionally glanced at and briefly discussed. But not by their group of fans, but rather by the barista (who was taking a break while being substituted by a coworker of his) and –more or less- his green haired companion. ‘Midorimacchi’ was Midorima Shintarou, 32 year old cardiologist, working at Tokyoidai Hospital under his father who was one of the biggest names in recent medical history. Despite his odd habits, he was very respected and popular among female patients or relatives of patients, much to his displeasure.

Outside of work, he liked to dress well and drink coffee while listening to nice music. Something always drew him back to that specific Starbucks, though he avoided thinking about what it was and just made the excuse that it was very close to his workplace and on the way to the subway station.  One thing he couldn’t find an explanation for (and he did not bother looking for one) was why he usually left immediately after receiving his drink when Takao was not there. It wasn’t like he _enjoyed_ the other’s constant pestering, but he couldn’t deny his own lack of conversation partners, given his and his friends’ work schedules. So he settled for this.  The first time they’d actually ended up talking had been purely accidental, during one of Takao’s numerous attempts to get the other’s attention. Being fully aware of who the other was, he’d mentioned that he’s a medical student so, even if he was just in his third year, they had plenty to discuss on that topic. He’d asked for some advice and they’d somehow ended up talking about many things, but mostly about Midorima’s career and Takao’s studies. Eventually their conversations had strayed from that topic almost entirely and now they talked about all sorts of things, be them personal or not.

It wasn’t just once that he’d ended up staying there for hours, talking or just sitting in silence, waiting for Takao to finish up whatever he was doing. He’d helped him close the café many times as well, and then either one of them had walked the other home. For the year that had passed since they’d first begun talking they’d managed to form an odd but strong bond. They weren’t necessarily very emotionally involved with each other (or so they both said and liked to believe), but they had become dependent on one another and neither of them could deny it.

 Midorima shared a lot with his new friend, definitely more than he normally felt comfortable with. He was unsure of why exactly he did this, but the fact remained. The other made him feel comfortable enough to talk about anything from his day at work to his family, things he rarely discussed with his childhood friends.

“Hey, Shin-chan” Takao was sitting across from him, his head propped up on his right arm. “do you have any plans for tonight?”

“Nothing in particular, why?”

“I was thinking we can go out somewhere. I’ll treat you to a drink or something, since I got a good grade on the test we had last week!” Shintarou fixed his glasses while considering the offer.

“…if you insist on treating me that much, you can just get me something from here. We don’t need to go anywhere special.” Takao pouted.

“Oh, come on, that’s no fun! We can go get some _actual_ drinks.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I have work in the morning.”

“Pff, I have a lecture from 7a.m.” Takao pat him on the shoulder, his grin unbelievably self-satisfied. “Who cares? It’s not like we’re going to drink enough to pass out. Just one cocktail, what do you say?” As much as he wanted to deny it, it really did seem nice and he _really_ wasn’t looking forward to going back to his empty apartment and reading until he fell asleep again.

“Fine. But we won’t stay for too long. And you have to pick the place, since I don’t visit enough bars to know which ones are good.”

“Of course!” Kazunari beamed “There’s this awesome place in Ikebukuro – ‘Night Flight’, let’s go there!” Granted his age and general sociability (or lack thereof), Midorima’d usually deny an offer to go to Ikebukuro late in the evening just to sit at some bar, but currently it didn’t seem that bad at all. Maybe because he wouldn’t be alone or because he was suddenly feeling somewhat adventurous; the reason didn’t really matter.

“Alright then. But there’s a long time until then, so I’ll pass through home to change. I can pick you up at the end of your workday.”

“Okay~ Not with your car, though.”

“Yes, yes.”

 

‘Night Flight’ was much like other Ikebukuro bars, with its numerous young visitors, loud music and gorgeous, scarcely clothed dancers. In the back there were a few rooms for the guests which wanted some privacy with either their date or one of said dancers. Nights there were either bright, flashy and had a soundtrack of loud J-Pop, or they were slower, darker and more relaxing. But that was only on Thursdays and Saturdays. The owner of this bar was Kentaro Seto and he could usually be found there along with his little clique consisting of Hara, Yamazaki and Furuhashi. It wasn’t really a shady place, but you could definitely find trouble there if you were looking for it. Those four were rather popular with their violent behavior and impressive control over the area.

To Takao though, as well as to many others, it was just a nice place to go to. He’d purposely waited for Thursday to invite Midorima to go there, since he’d guessed his friend wouldn’t particularly enjoy the bar’s usual atmosphere.

When they arrived around 10:30p.m there were just a few other guests along with Seto’s group playing cards on their usual table. Since it was their first time being together anywhere besides at Starbucks or on the street, they both found keeping up a conversation difficult. Takao was the one doing most of the talking as usual, but the atmosphere somehow called for discussions of a completely different kind than the ones they usually had. The slow music was somehow entrancing and, before they knew it, they had already ordered their second cocktails. By that time they’d both stopped being so tense and were passionately discussing me

“I did agree to just one drink, Takao…”

“C’mon, it’s not like anything can happen~ We’re having fun, right? I’ll take you home safely afterwards.”

As it turned out, Midorima _really_ couldn’t hold his liquor, much unlike his companion. Kazunari couldn’t lie – he’d been hoping that the other’s one of those funny drunks who either dance with their tie around their head or laugh at everything. Alas, he wasn’t even the type to hiccup a lot and complain about everything. He’d just fallen asleep on the couch halfway through his Kermit (which Takao had not stopped mocking him for ordering because of its name and color), thus leaving him to play on his phone, finish both their drinks, pay, and then drag him out of the bar.

He’d called for a cab as soon as they’d exited ‘Night Flight’ and had helped his friend to sit down on the stairs in front of the bar while they waited.

“Shin-chan, you look kind of absurd right now, you know that?”

“Shut up, Takao.” He’d managed, though he hadn’t sounded nearly as menacing as he usually did. His friend chuckled.

“The taxi’s almost here, I’ll come with you to your place, okay?” all he received in response were some gurgling noises and an incoherent murmur which was either ‘thank you’ or a cuss. Either way it was received with a smile.

It wasn’t particularly quiet outside despite the fact that it was already past midnight; there were young men and women walking around, laughing, talking eagerly about all sorts of things, going to bars and arcades or just sitting down on the sidewalks to drink soda, swallowed up by their conversations. This was much more relaxing than a completely silent and empty night, Takao thought, his gaze turned upwards. Even though the stars were barely visible, the sky was still gorgeous. At some point he felt Midorima lean his head on his shoulder and he smiled, chuckling.

Getting his friend into the cab had been a challenge, but he’d somehow managed to do it. Originally, he was going to have the driver wait for him until he escorted the other to his apartment before going home, but he’d figured staying the night was the wiser thing to do, given Shintaro’s state. He had never been to his house before and he was incredibly thankful he’d asked for his address earlier that evening ‘just in case’.

The first thing that struck him about the other’s apartment was how clean it was. Clean and quiet, filled with old fashioned arm chairs, bookshelves and tables alongside the fancy wardrobes, lamps and TVs. There were a lot of hardcover books in his living room, some of which Takao recognized from afar as he’d been reading them for his studies as well. Beside them, there was a record player. In his bedroom, there was nothing but a legless queen-sized bed and a nightstand.

Takao’d helped Midorima kick off his shoes and jeans before tucking him in and going to wash his hands and strip. To his utmost surprise, there was no couch he could sleep on, just those damn two _armchairs._ After thinking long and hard about it, he’d shrugged and lied down on the bed beside his friend and had fallen asleep almost instantly.

Even though he hadn’t heard the other’s alarm in the morning, he’d gotten woken up by a very loud and angry shout of his name.

“Relax, Shin-chan, at least you’re not late for work.”

“I’m going to kill you.” Not laughing at his flushed face was impossible, really. “This isn’t funny!”

“I’m going to stay here, okay? I don’t really feel like going to my lectures and nothing’s really going to happen if I stay home for one day.”

“Why would you think it’s fine for you to stay here…!” as if he didn’t need permission to stay, Takao rolled on his side and buried his face in the pillow, dozing off again. It was just 6:30 in the morning, after all. Midorima wanted to protest, but he was going to be _very_ late if he did.  So he sighed in defeat and hurried to shower and get dressed.

The entire day he was haunted by the fear of the other using his toothbrush (and decided he’d buy a new one on the way home, just in case) or cooking in his kitchen. But what he was the most worried about, and thus he avoided thinking about it at all costs, was _why_ Takao had been in his bed in the first place. His headache and lack of proper memories from the previous night were _not_ helping his assumptions, but he was too embarrassed to ask. So he just stressed over it the entire day, while the man in question lazed around and wondered if he should freak out his friend a bit when he came home.

Naturally, he decided to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](http://www.spiritdrinks.com/cocktails/Kermit.asp#.VKBx814AA)is Midorima's cocktail.
> 
> Phew, this one's finally done. I was so busy with uni I didn't even notice when this month passed TvT  
> Also surprise MidoTaka in this chapter, because those two were apparently very eager to make an appearance.  
> With finals coming up I'm not sure when I'll be able to update again, /but/ I'll do my best for it to be as soon as possible~ 
> 
> Until then - I hope you're enjoying it so far and happy holidays <3


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